


Fantasy, With Tongue

by woodelf



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Stargate Universe
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, mild bestiality in a sexual fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22510645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodelf/pseuds/woodelf
Summary: Belle wants to hear Rush's kinkiest fantasy.
Relationships: Belle (Once Upon a Time)/Nicholas Rush
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Fantasy, With Tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RipperBlackstaff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RipperBlackstaff/gifts).



> Based on a prompt from Ripperblackstaff for "Rushbelle space giraffe porn". Because that's the way we roll in this fandom.

“Your kinkiest fantasy,” Rush prompted.

They were lying in bed together, Belle’s head pillowed on his shoulder. She made a noise to indicate she was thinking, then a rosy blush suddenly suffused her cheeks in a way that told him that this was going to be interesting. 

“Um, well, this is from when I was younger,” she prefaced. “We used to stay at my uncle’s place for a few weeks every summer. And he had all these old sci-fi novels, you know the kind that take place on some alien world, with a cover that features some muscle-bound warrior with a long sword and a scantily-clad female at his feet?”

Rush chuckled. “Yes, I know the sort. Chainmail bikinis and strappy leather harnesses?” He played with her hair, twirling a lock of it around his fingers. 

“Yes, exactly. One year I ended up reading a bunch of them. The writing was dated and pretty awful in places, but, well, it was summer and you don’t want to read _War and Peace_ when your brain is melting out of your ears. And anything that I hadn’t read before was fair game. And then one day I watched this nature documentary on the telly, about giraffes. And I’d never realised before how very _long_ their tongues were. Long and thick and grey, and they could curl it around quite a bit as they used it to strip leaves off the branches of trees. And I developed this fantasy.” She shifted her face against his skin, trying to find a cooler spot for her overheated cheek, glad she couldn’t see his eyes upon her. “I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this.”

“I”m very intrigued by the possibilities already,” Rush encouraged, his mind already contemplating an image of Belle in a chainmail bikini. 

“Well, I lived on one of those worlds, in a sort of primitive society, and I was kidnapped by a rival tribe, lifted up and thrown across the back of a horse, in front of its rider. My hands were tied and his arm was wrapped like an iron band around my middle, preventing me from trying to escape. When we got to their village I was dragged off to the ground, and there was shouting, and people rushing to see, and their shaman appeared. He wore a cloak of giraffe skin, and a loincloth of the same, and a mask and headdress that mimicked that animal and disguised his features. He barked an order, and I was unceremoniously stripped naked for his inspection, my bound arms held behind me.”

“What were you wearing?” Rush shifted, his body already responding to the image.

“Not much,” she admitted. “A leather halter top and skirt, mostly. Soft leather boots, things like beaded necklaces and a belt and coiled metal armbands. I felt the shaman’s eyes rake over me, and I obviously met with his approval, for he nodded curtly and said something, and I was dragged over to this sort of altar stone in the middle of the village square, about hip height, with iron rings set into it at the four corners, and I was draped across the stone on my back, the rope binding my wrists together cut, only for my arms to be swiftly pulled up and apart above my head and my wrists lashed to the rings. Likewise my ankles were bound too, my legs spread wide, the size and shape of the stone bowing my back and causing my legs to fall somewhat over the edge at my knee. my breasts thrust upward and my sex in full view to anyone who wished to see.”

Rush swallowed hard, the blood rushing south and engorging his cock in record time.

“Our dialects were different, but I could understand much of the gist of what was being said around me, and I heard the shaman say ‘prepare her’, and two women approached with pots of some sticky substance. It was both sweet and spicy smelling, I soon discovered, as they began to paint my body with it, paying special attention to my breasts and between my legs. I tried to squirm away from their ministrations, their brisk and businesslike fingers, but my body was responding to the stimulation despite myself. And after a couple of minutes of application, I felt the spices begin to act upon my skin, creating a warm, tingling sensation that maddened me even further. They said it was a great honour to be chosen for the ritual, and not to be afraid. And when they finished, they tied a blindfold over my eyes and left me.” Belle shifted, her knee coming up, and she felt the unmistakeable proof of his arousal against her thigh. She glanced up, startled, and then continued with more confidence, knowing that her words were turning him on. 

“It should have made it worse, but it made it better. I couldn’t see who was looking at me, although I was sure eyes still strayed my way. I began to smell the heady scent of incense, and heard a drumbeat begin, low and insistent, and I began to feel odd, like there was nothing wrong with being there, laid out upon that stone. I had a purpose to fulfill, and since I couldn’t fight it, I accepted it. And I waited, my skin feeling tight and hot where the juices or honey had dried.” She reached down and stroked his erection through his boxer shorts, enjoying the breathless sound he made and the way his hips pushed into her touch. He slid his hand up under her shirt, splayed it across her back.

“Finally I heard the people begin to hush, and someone approaching, and I smelled some large animal nearby. A voice spoke out, and I caught some words about the ‘vessel’, and ‘blessing’, and the next thing I knew was the feel of soft, velvet lips mouthing at my breasts and I screamed in reaction, my body arching upward as much as the little slack in my bonds allowed, but it did nothing but push my chest towards whatever it was. Something large and wet and heavy dragged across my breast, and I realised it was the tongue of some beast, and it was licking at the sweet stuff that had been painted upon my skin, scouring my breasts, pushing the soft flesh back and forth, my nipples instantly exploding with sensation as it licked and licked and licked, the spices by then having had time to soak into my skin. I writhed under the onslaught, the moisture pooling between my legs, my nipples more swollen and hard than they had ever been in my life. They continued to throb as the tongue finally moved down over my belly towards my mound, and I almost held my breath, waiting for what I knew was to come. I both desperately wanted it and was mortified by that wanting, for I was so close to coming that I knew it wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge. I automatically tried in vain to close my legs as I felt the first puff of warm breath between them, but then the tongue dragged up through my slick flesh, my fluids now running out of me and onto the stone, and it lapped and curled and licked them up, chasing after the sweet spicy stuff beneath. I tried desperately to get it to go higher, to touch my pulsing clit, giving up all dignity as I tried to thrust my hips upward. I felt the blindfold shift, moving up in back, and I turned my head to the side and deliberately dragged it against the stone, desperate to see what manner of beast was feasting upon me. I managed to dislodge it slightly, and suddenly I could see a little beneath the strip of cloth.” She drew his cock out of his shorts, all velvet skin over stone hardness beneath, and played with it leisurely, listening to him trying to keeping his roughened breathing from turning into outright groans of pleasure.

“It was one of the wild giraffes that roamed the area, similar in shape to Earth giraffes except smaller, no more than six or seven feet high. But what struck me was that this one was white, with only the faintest of creamy patches upon its coat, and it wore a golden halter, held by a man who was holding it by a short length of rope. I guessed that it was the tribe’s sacred beast, and as I watched, unnoticed, its tongue pushed a little way inside me, seeking all the flavour, and I moaned and arched and gave myself up to it, wanting only that last push over the edge into orgasm. And at last the tip of its strong tongue touched my clit, stabbed at it, and I broke, crying out as my body went into spasm, wave after wave of ecstasy washing through me. The giraffe started to pull back, startled, no doubt, but its handler urged it forward again, and sometimes that was when I came in real life, from the image of being bound and on exhibition and the idea of a relentless stimulation that I couldn’t stop.”

“And if not?” Rush prompted huskily, feeling more than a little overstimulated himself. He was going to fuck her so hard as soon as she had finished her story. 

“Then – or if I wanted to try for a second orgasm, when I couldn’t take it anymore, I would call out ‘No more! Stop, please!’ and mercifully the animal would be pulled back, and my body was finally able to sag back to the stone, my womb opening and closing convulsively. With a shock I saw that the beast’s cock was fully extended from its sheath, jutting out stiffly beneath its belly, and I felt a moment’s horror that it would be made to mount me, but then it was led off to the side, and the shaman took his place between my legs. Except now he was naked, wearing only his mask and his golden armbands, and he was gloriously, beautifully erect, his cock blood-dark, thick, and curving, and he pushed it up against my wetness and in one smooth thrust sank deep, leaning forward to brace his hands upon the stone on either side of my hips, so I could feel nothing of his body except the cock piercing me to my core, and I knew that the blindfold was supposed to keep me from knowing that a substitution had taken place. My empty cunt clutched hungrily at it, and after a few slow strokes to coat himself in my juices, he set up a relentless pace, ploughing into me while I could do nothing but gasp at each stroke that rocked me back along the smooth stone and strain at my bonds, wanting not to get away but to wrap my arms and my legs around him and haul him closer.” She gathered his balls in her hand, stroking over their taut rounded surface with her thumb. Rush’s hand moved down, beneath the elastic waistband of her underpants, and curved itself to her rear, moving over the soft flesh restlessly.

Belle squirmed and continued. “A chant rose up around us, invoking fertility and abundance for the crops and the cattle, and the people as well, growing in volume and urgency, and the shaman pressed down, grinding his pelvis against mine in a circular motion and reaching up with one hand to roughly knead my breast, rolling and tugging at the nipple and that was enough for me to come again, my muscles clamping down on him and dragging his own climax out of him. And as I felt his hot seed filling me up, I hear a low grunting noise to my left and turned my head to see its handler stroking the white giraffe’s long cock, a bowl held at the ready by one of the women who had prepared me for the ritual, and then it was coming too, long spurts of white spunk jetting into the bowl, filling it up, its handler deftly milking every last drop of it out of his charge until its cock softened in his hands and he let it go.” 

“Jesus,” Rush swore. “Did they do something with the beast’s seed that they’d collected?”

“Mixed it in buckets of water and gave a little to each of their breeding cattle to drink,” Belle replied promptly. “And they’d catch the mix of the shaman’s seed and my own fluids when he pulled out of me and it spilled forth. And they’d mix that likewise and give it to the people to drink who wanted a child. Funny thing, though,” she mused. “All these years and I never could envision a face for my shaman. A nice lean body, yes, but he was always faceless – until now?” 

“Aye?” Rush nearly croaked.

“Mm.” She’d still been cupping the warm weight of his balls, but now she let go to wrap her hand around his cock and stroke it from root to tip. “You’d make a lovely shaman.”

A moment later he’d flipped her over and had her hands pinned up above her head. He ground his hips down against her. “Would I?” he growled. 

“Mm-hm.” Belle wiggled under him, not fighting his grasp on her wrists. “Did you like my story?” she asked cheekily. 

“What do _you_ think? You’re the one who had their hand wrapped around my cock a second ago. I don’t know what I was expecting when I asked about your fantasies, but your answer surpassed my wildest dreams.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “So I’m your shaman, am I?” he released her abruptly and sat up. 

“Strip,” he ordered, rolling off the bed and proceeding to do just that, yanking his t-shirt over his head and shoving his boxer shorts down impatiently. 

Belle watched avidly as his cock sprang free, but Rush leveled a glare at her. 

“Strip, my lovely captive, if you want to have any fun.”

Belle slowly removed her top and underpants, keeping her eyes on him as she did so. 

He turned around, looking around the room, spotting a length of PVC pipe that had somehow ended up in his quarters, propped up against the wall next to his dresser. He pulled open the drawer where he kept spare bits of hardware and materials that he picked up around the ship, waiting for a use to be found for them, and pulled out a tangle of plastic-coated wire. He extricated two good sized lengths, grabbed a roll of duct tape for good measure, and was just about to shove the drawer shut when he spotted something else. He picked up the piece of rubbery material and fingered it thoughtfully; it was like a short sleeve that had probably fitted over some part or other to reduce friction. He experimentally dragged it against his own skin. It felt interesting, different – maybe? Then his eyes fell on the apple that he’d saved to snack on later. It really was like a small Earth apple, slightly tart and juicy, and he picked it up thoughtfully and opened his pocketknife, paring a wide strip of peel from it, careful to leave some of the pale, moist flesh on the one side. He tried sliding that over his nipple and his muscles involuntarily twitched in response. _Hell yes_ , he thought, and dropped the rubbery material back in the drawer and closed it. 

“What are you doing?” Belle demanded, as he began to twist the wire tightly around each end of the pipe, using the duct tape to ensure it wouldn’t slide along the smooth plastic. 

“Well, since the Ancients didn’t provide us with a bondage-friendly headboard,” he said practically, “We have to improvise.” He concealed the piece of peel in his mouth and carried the pipe over to the bed, laying it above her head. “Grab onto that at either end.” It was a good size pipe, about four feet long and enough diameter to have some weight without being bulky. 

Belle caught on quickly, and positioned her arms near the wires on either end of the pipe, looking up and watching as Rush wrapped the free end of the wire he’d left around one of her wrists, then becoming distracted by his cock bobbing so close to her face as he leaned over to fasten the other one. She lifted her head, managed to swipe at it with her tongue.

“Don’t tempt me, woman,” he growled, stepping back. “As much as I would love to kneel above you while you sucked me off, that’s not in tonight’s scheduled fantasy.” 

Belle giggled.

“Are the ties okay?” he asked, gesturing to her wrists, admiring the stretched out lines of her pale body. 

She tested her restraints. She could lift both arms together, but the pipe kept them spread apart and its weight was a reminder to lower them again. The wire was snug enough to provide pressure but not unpleasantly tight. 

“Yeah, it’s good,” she assured him. 

Rush ran a hand down her calf to circle her ankle with his fingers. “You’ll just have to pretend your ankles are tied,” he said, spreading her legs apart. “Although I could probably find a strap to wrap around the mattress to tie them to in future if you want to do this again. Let’s see…” He fetched a bandanna and folded it into a strip. Belle lifted her head without needing telling as he approached and he secured it over her eyes. “Okay?’ he asked again. 

“Yeah.” A little tremor of anticipation was already running through her. She felt the mattress dip as Rush climbed back onto it. She thought he was kneeling above her. 

“Now, remember where you are,” he said softly. “You’re tied to an altar stone in the middle of a village, surrounded by people. They’re watching you, naked and bound and helpless, painted and on display. Can you hear the drums? Smell the incense?”

“Yes,” Belle breathed. For several seconds there was silence, and then she nearly jumped as Nick’s mouth encompassed her breast, warm and wet and tugging. Automatically she tried to lift her hands, to bury them in his hair, and the pvc pipe thumped against the wall. 

Rush grinned at her noise of frustration, but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t a man, he was being a beast, mindlessly licking at the trail of sweetness it had found, scouring a woman’s skin. He dragged his tongue over her nipple, without trying to employ any finesse, simply licking, licking, licking, Belle groaning as her hips gave a spasmodic jerk under him. He shifted to the other side, briefly admiring the way the wet, swollen nipple stood out darkly against the paler skin around it before lowering his head again. This one he tried curling his tongue around as he moved up the slope of her breast, so he caught the nipple from the side and skidded over the top, and her hips began undulating steadily, the pipe giving another thump as she shifted. He wondered what he could steal from the mess to paint her with next time as he started moving downward, licking his way down in long, broad strokes over her ribcage to her belly and then to her mound, deliberately keeping any part of his body besides his mouth from touching her. 

She spread her legs wider, in invitation, and he picked up the strip of apple peel that he’d set aside once she’d been blindfolded.

“Nick?” she asked, when he didn’t imediately resume touching her again. 

He remained silent, moving to the end of the bed and leaning over to blow softly between her legs. He could smell the sharp, musky odour of her arousal, and his cock throbbed, urging him to either taste it for himself or to drive into her wetness, but he took what he hoped would feel strange enough to imagine as some sort of tongue instead, and dragged the fleshy, slippery strip of peel up through her slick folds. Her hips rose off the bed, a startled sound escaping her lips.

“What the hell is that?”

Smirking, he repeated the motion, coating the peel in her fluids, long, slow strokes of an imaginary tongue, never quite reaching her clit, and Belle writhed, her knees coming up as she braced her feet on the bed, rocking up in an effort to steer his hand. To push them back flat, though, would require either his hands on her legs or for him to speak, and he wasn’t ready to break silence yet, as long as she kept her thighs spread wide. He dipped his fingers into her entrance, drawing more wetness out, Finally he moved up, folding the strip of peel over the end of his finger and bumping it against her clit. He heard the pipe rattle again in an aborted attempt to move her hands. 

“Please,” she breathed out, and he made the peel lick at her again, and again, till she was keening almost non-stop, her hips rocking into his hand. And then he stopped, cutting off her protest by lowering his head, deliberately letting his hair trail over her bare skin, and blew an audible breath against her before closing his lips around her swollen, glistening clitoris, and sucking. 

Belle screamed, her back bowing off the bed as she came, and Rush finally touched her with his hands, grabbing her hips and hauling her back down. He slammed into her as her orgasm continued to roll through her, gritting his teeth as her muscles clenched spasmodically around him. He pulled out, thrust back in, felt her legs come up and wrap around him. He really should reprimand her for not keeping them down, but that would have meant losing that little extra bit of depth which sealed their bodies flush together. He reached up and tugged the blindfold off over her head. “Did you like that?” he asked roughly. “Did you like getting pleased in front of all those people, by the tongue of a beast?”

Belle blinked at him in the dim light, then looked around at once. “What _was_ that?” she asked breathlessly, curling her fingers around the pipe. Still bound, still at the mercy of the beautiful man between her legs, but a most willing sacrifice. 

“What was what?” he asked innocently, having already tucked the peel away inside his cheek before he’d entered her, ready to chew and swallow when she wasn’t paying attention. “What did you feel?”

“Something smooth, and slippery. Something different,” she said.

“Did you like it?” he probed.

“Yes,” she admitted. 

“Then I think I’ll keep that little secret for the moment,” he grinned cheekily. “And do you like imagining this? Getting fucked in front of everyone, helpless to resist? But I’m not going to let my seed spill outside your body, my sweet little captive. What good is a fertility ritual if the participants aren’t seen to be fertile? I’m going to fill you up until your belly rounds with child, and everyone will know that it’s mine. Would you like that?”

“What does it matter?” She asked defiantly, although an inward frisson ran through her at the image. “I’m your captive, you can take me every night if you wish. It make take _months_.”

“Because I wouldn’t keep you my captive; I’d make you my queen.” He lowered himself and kissed her hungrily, claiming her for his own even as his lower body continued to pound into her, and he felt her body jerk against his as their chests crushed together. 

“Then yes, yes I’d like that,” she gasped as his lips left hers briefly. “I’d carry your child proudly, for all to see. And when it’s born, and my milk comes in, I’d let you suckle too, and make you my own even more that way.”

He gave a low cry as his body convulsed, the knot of pleasure in the end of his cock suddenly bursting and shooting straight up into his spine. He hung over her, motionless, as his body pulsed inside her and filled her with his seed as promised. When the last twitch had faded, he collapsed upon her breast, drained and dry, his heart pounding wildly. 

Suddenly the restraints which had made the experience more intense were unbearable. Belle needed to wrap her arms around him, run her fingers through his hair, hold him close. “Nick. My hands.”

Rush reluctantly lifted his head, and stretched upwards to untwist the wire around her wrists, feeling his softened cock slip free of her body despite his best efforts. But then Belle’s hands were running over his body, caressing and soothing, and he lay back down with his head upon her breast and one leg thrown over hers and closed his eyes, making a sleepy, contented noise as she began to play with his hair. 

“Best question I’ve ever asked you,” he murmured with satisfaction. 

“I’ll have to ask you yours next time,” she mused.

“Not sure I have one, nothing particularly kinky. No space giraffes, that’s for sure.”

Belle narrowed her eyes at him. “Not sure I believe you; not how quickly you got into this one. No alien slave girls bought at auction to satisfy your every desire?”

Rush’s body went a little too still, and Belle laughed. 

“Well, ah, now that you mention it…I haven’t thought of that one in a long time. But how did you –?”

“Princess Leia, right?” she guessed.

“Possibly,” he mumbled against her skin, and she ruffled his hair affectionately.

“I’m sure you can think up something for the next time," she said encouragingly. "Make it good.”

Rush smiled to himself as he began playing around with possibilities in his head

No one had ever accused Nicholas Rush of lacking imagination when he put his mind to something.


End file.
